Time War: Invasion

by Nick S. Thomas

  “Start getting helpful,” spat Corwin.

  “Excuse me…”

  “These are the orders of Major Williams,” interrupted Hotwell.

  The name drop brought him to silence as he turned back to Corwin.

  “I don’t even know of the inmates you speak of,” he pleaded.

  Corwin shook his head.

  "Look at me, and realise that you do know. Came in from Dieppe engagement, bit weird and off, won’t take any crap. You know exactly whom I am talking about. Trust me, they’d stand out here. Get them out here now,” he said calmly.

  “Sergeant, I cannot help you.”

  Corwin’s calm nerves were gone. He smashed his fist down on the desk. The thick hardwood top cracked and split down the centre. His hand went right through, and either end rose up, splitting it in half. The warden rose back out of his chair and crashed into the bookcase behind him. He was red in the face, and his heart was pounding in his chest.

  “Please do as the Sergeant asks,” said Hotwell.

  “I won’t ask again.”

  The man nodded shakily and led them out of the room.

  “Major Williams has already given me permission in person to remove the three prisoners from your facility that are under Sergeant Corwin’s command.”

  He led them to a room where they found Chas and Vi playing with a deck of cards. They were as calm as anything.

  “Where’s Lecia?” Corwin asked sternly.

  “She is in isolation. She has not got on well here.”

  “No shit. You cage a girl like that, and she’ll go crazy. You ever try that with me, and I’ll rip your head off.”

  The man looked terrified. He could see it was the truth. He led them on down a corridor, and out through the back of the building into the rear gardens, to a concrete structure with five doors. They were small cells.

  “Oh, she’s gonna be pissed,” said Corwin.

  “How do you mean?”

  “Captain, how’d you think you’d feel spending a day in one of those?”

  “Rather unsatisfied, I’d say.”

  Corwin smiled.

  “Yeah, you don’t want to even imagine how she’ll be thinking right now. It’ll be a miracle if she doesn’t kill someone before we get out of here.”

  The warden signalled for a guard to open the locks of one of the cell doors, and it creaked as it slid forward. It was totally dark inside, and they could only just make out the silhouette of a figure sitting in the corner.

  “Esperon, that you?” Corwin asked.

  “You know how long you have left us rotting here?” she replied in a sullen tone.

  “Too long.”

  She suddenly leapt forward and stopped just a few centimetres in front of the warden. He froze in fear, but she only glared at him without a word. There was murderous intention in her eyes, and she looked ready to tear him apart.

  "Lecia, stop fucking around. Let's get out of here."

  Her gaze turned to him before finally leaving the warden and heading towards Corwin's side.

  "Weeks! Really?"

  "Did the best I could do."

  "Not good enough."

  He nodded and smiled. "Yeah, I know."

  They got out quickly and were in the vehicles in no time.

  "You know the Major will never believe your story? You may have won his favour and his support, but it will be quick to diminish if you share stories of time travel with him. He has no tolerance for lies, and that is exactly how it will seem," said Hotwell.

  "You still don't believe it, either?"

  "I believe you are here for the right reasons, and I cannot see why you would fabricate such a story, but neither can I find any reason to quite believe it yet. I am just satisfied to accept you as allies and leave it there, but that will not fly with the Major. He will want answers, or you may well find yourselves behind bars once more."

  "Got any ideas?"

  "We're going to have to pass you off as an American Special Forces detachment. It is a semi truth that we might just pull off. Are you familiar with the OSS?"

  Corwin shook his head.

  "Office of Strategic Services, an American outfit started just last year. Their job is mostly intelligence and espionage, but still little is known of what they actually get up to. It would explain the females in your team, and stop the Major pressing you too much on the facts."

  Beyett piped up from the back seat.

  "And us being in that camp was no accident at all. It was part of our ongoing investigation into genetic enhancement of German soldiers, and you were aware of our operations from day one."

  Corwin approved. "Truth woven into a pile of bullshit, I love it."

  "Yes, that's good. Be sure your people all know the score, and this might just work."

  "We're going to need you, too," added Corwin.

  Hotwell looked surprised.

  "You're the only one who knows and trusts us. We will need you to open doors for us. I want you attached to my squad."

  "If you think you can make that happen, then I will be more than happy to provide my services."

  They arrived at Headquarters with just two minutes to spare, and Hotwell leapt out of the vehicle and rushed to the door. It was clear he feared the Major as much as the enemy.

  "Beyett, with me. Rest of you stay put, and make sure everyone knows the back story."

  Corwin followed Hotwell into the house. It was a vast English manor and lavishly decorated, filled with uniformed staff slaving away at administrative work. He shook his head, imagining the boredom of what that must be like, and couldn't help but feel it looked much like their time in prison.

  They reached Williams’ office, and Hotwell knocked before entering. Corwin had been expected some collective of officers, but it was just the Major awaiting them. He sat smoking a pipe with a newspaper in hand, and looked as calm and relaxed as any man could hope to be. He put the paper down and pointed for them to take seats before his desk.

  They sat down, and he studied each of them for a few moments as he smoked his pipe, quizzing them with his eyes.

  "Sergeant Corwin. I know every Allied serviceman that operates in this district of mine, every one of them, except for you and your team, which is rather unorthodox. Please, fill me in."

  Hotwell started to sweat and looked terrified, but Corwin was calm and quick to respond in a polite and courteous fashion.

  "My apologies that we were unable to announce our presence to you earlier, Major, but our mission was, and still is, of the utmost importance and secrecy. No one since we departed the United States has known of this mission, except for Captain Hotwell, who was instrumental in discovering the identify and capture of Corporal Winter."

  "And now that your mission is successful, what are your intentions?"

  "It is not complete. There is no going home for us. But I cannot disclose any more of our intentions at this time."

  "And who do you report to?"

  "In England, nobody. We work alone, and report only to the OSS directly."

  "And I suppose you want my help?"

  Corwin nodded. "I cannot begin to explain how vital our work is."

  "Weapons, uniforms, transport, this I can provide for you, but I think you need far more than I have to offer."

  "We will take anything we can get, and we will need some staff, capable researchers and analysts. People you know you can trust one hundred percent. We have a lot of work ahead of us, and we need a team that can back our corner."

  Williams thought on it for a while.

  "Officially, this should be taken a long way up the chain of the command. I don't have the authority to back such an endeavour. Unofficially, we need all the help we can get in this damn war. Tell me, will your work help us win?"

  "We may be more vital than you will ever know, yes."

  "Then I will give you everything I can. I don't expect to know operational details, but I do expect to see results if I am to continue assisting you. I wan
t Hotwell to act as liaison between us."

  "Thank you, you won't regret this, Major."

  He got up and led them out of his office and down a corridor to a large set of double doors. He pushed them open and stepped inside to reveal a spacious games room with a billiards table in the centre.

  "From now on, this room is yours. I will have all those I select for you to report here, and I will ensure that all staff are made aware of your position here. You will only answer to me."

  Corwin nodded in appreciation.

  "Then, welcome to the 7th Parachute Battalion. Officially, you will be part of my command staff. That will keep you out of trouble, but we'll have to get you looking the part," he said, smiling as he turned and left.

  Corwin couldn't believe his luck. They'd just bullshitted their way into the good graces of a competent and decent officer. Twenty minutes later the whole squad were sitting about the billiards room. They’d waited so long to get free that none had given any great thought as to where to go next, but Beyett broke the silence.

  "Villiers...let's stay on target. We need to know where he is, what he has been up to, what he plans to do next, and how we can get to him."

  They all looked to Hotwell for answers.

  "You're the intelligence officer," Corwin said, "Time to earn your pay."

  Hotwell took in a deep breath, feeling the extent of the pressure and responsibility being placed on his shoulders.

  "Who exactly is this Villiers?"

  "Maximilian Villiers," replied Beyett, "One of the most intelligent, brilliant, and dangerous men of our generation. Once a key weapons developer for our side, he defected after the wrongful killing of his family."

  "That is all you need to know of his back story," added Corwin, and Beyett continued.

  "Villiers went on to become the key leader of the enemy forces, an axis of evil, much like those who are now here. He almost turned the tide of the war, but on the eve of his defeat, travelled back here to this time."

  "But why? Why now?"

  Beyett smiled and pointed to Corwin.

  "What is it?"

  "Well...let's just say it wasn't intentional."

  "So what, you took a gamble, and this is where you ended up?"

  For a moment he let himself believe everything Corwin and Beyett was telling him, but then the absurdity of their story struck home, but he didn't say anything.

  "It's true that we came here by chance, and it could not have been a worse time and place for Villiers to end up. With his mind, intentions, and abilities, he can change the world forever. He already has."

  "But why would he side with Hitler? What possible reason would he have to do that?"

  "Villiers wants nothing more than to destroy the United States and her allies, and he will do absolutely anything to achieve that goal."

  "That's it? He doesn't want power or wealth or anything, just to destroy?"

  Corwin shrugged.

  "The made a monster of Villiers, a monster that we had more than a fair share in creating, and now we must kill it before it destroys humanity as we know it," replied Beyett.

  Hotwell was going pale again as he felt the heavy burden being placed on him.

  "Then give me a couple of days. It isn't as easy as pulling out a few files. I'll do all that I can to try and help, Sergeant."

  "Don't try, do. We've wasted weeks rotting away in cells. Now we need to make up that time."

  "We're soldiers, not clerks. We need to be out there tracking Villiers down."

  "And where would you start, Porter?" asked Corwin.

  Porter shrugged.

  "We need information more than anything right now. Let's get to work."

  A few hours later there was a knock on the door, and Nylund opened it to find a military tailor with a wheeled cart full of uniforms. He rolled the cart inside, and Nylund ran his hand over the coarse wool fabrics.

  “You have got to be kidding me?”

  Corwin grinned. “Got to look the part.”

  Three days went by, and the billiards table became a pile of maps and notes. They each now wore the complete wool suit-like uniforms that itched all over. Photographs and maps were pinned to three large boards either side of the length of the table, and four staff allocated to them were constantly processing file after file of paper documents. Beyett sat at one end of the table, seemingly in charge of the chaos, and he was racking his brains as he stared at one map for thirty minutes.

  Corwin was slumped in a chair across the room and knew they had ground to a halt. He looked down at an aerial photo he had in his hands. It had been there five minutes, and he didn’t even remember what he was looking for anymore. He threw the photo down on the table and stepped up to stretch.

  “Enough!”

  Everyone stopped what they were doing and looked to him. They all hoped he had some answer, but he was so far from it.

  “This isn’t working. We keep hammering away at this, and all we’re doing is fucking with our minds.”

  “So what’s the plan, Boss?” Chas piped up.

  The three women were dressed in skirts and tunics marked up as motor transport. Vi and Lecia looked appalled by it, but Chas sported the uniform as if she was modelling it and glowed with a sexy smile on her face.

  “Come on, we’re getting out of here. We need to clear our heads.”

  He picked up his red beret from the table and walked out of the room without another word. The rest followed out of curiosity and went outside to the jeeps supplied for them. The sun was going down as Corwin jumped into the driver’s seat of the nearest one. Hotwell leapt in beside him.

  “Where are we going?”

  “The team needs to let off some steam, or they’re going to tear each other apart. Where can we get a drink around here?”

  “Now you’re talking,” said Porter.

  “Head out the gates, and take a right. I’ll guide you from there.”

  The engines fired up, and they turned on the tiny blackout lights on the wings of the vehicles. They gave little more than a light haze around the front of the jeeps. They got out onto the country roads, and Corwin was relieved to feel the fresh breeze on his skin. It didn’t feel sharp anymore. They were already becoming acclimatised to the temperate zone that was now their home.

  “You got a first name, Sergeant?”

  Corwin saw he was genuinely curious. He was really warming to Hotwell. He’d proven a valuable ally in an alien world.

  “Wyatt.”

  “Like Wyatt Earp?”

  “Yeah, what of it?”

  “Coming all the way from the future, I’d expect something weird and wonderful,” he smiled, "It’s not a bad man to be associated with. Earp was a great American. The name’s John, by the way.”

  Corwin appreciated him sharing such personal information. He could already tell in his time there that few people were on first names terms, except for long-term friends and comrades.

  “You any closer to believing our story yet, John?”

  He shook his head. “You know how hard it is for me to wrap my head around it? And that I cannot share this with anyone around me? You ask me to support a story so insanely far fetched that I might enjoy it, were it a work of utter fiction, but terrifies me to consider it a reality?”

  “No, I can’t, because I’ve never had to hear such a story and be asked to believe it. A few weeks ago, I thought time travel was something for dreamers and storytellers. I wish it were not the case.”

  “Assuming I do believe it all, why did you take that leap?”

  “Because Villiers has to be stopped, and we were all that could do it. We were there at the very end with one opportunity. But it wasn’t a difficult decision to make. We could make that jump, or die there and then with nuclear weapon that was set to detonate after Villiers had left.”

  “Nuclear?”

  “You don’t want to know,” added Beyett, “Pray you never know. Though that will be a problem we will likely have to deal with if
we survive long enough.”

  “So you had no choice but to come through? This or death?”

  “Yep, that’s about the sum of it.”

  “Do you regret it?”

  Corwin laughed. “This or death? Only a fool would choose death.”

  “Do you think you will ever see home again?”

  Corwin thought about it for a while.

  “I’m don’t even know where that is anymore. We’ve been fighting across the world for so long, home is us right here. I’m not sure it matters where we are.”

  “Then who are you fighting this war for?”

  He hesitated for a moment and then answered, “I was never great with history, but I know who the good guys were in this.”

  “And you are yet to discover the true extent of the evil the Nazis really are,” added Beyett.

  They rolled into a pleasant village that appeared untouched by the war, and Hotwell was quick to point out the first drinking establishment. They pulled up outside along a line of other jeeps.

  "I'm afraid the area has been rather taken over by the Americans of late, but I suppose you'll fit right in."

  It was an old pub called The Boar, and looked as though it had remained unchanged for a couple of hundred years. The front door wasn't even tall enough to let Rane through without him ducking under. Hotwell led them inside with Corwin close behind. As they stepped in, they found a dozen US paratroopers staring at them. A couple nodded to welcome the Captain who they clearly recognised, but they looked at Corwin and his lot with suspicion. Rane's size caused a few gasps, but it was when the women entered that a few wolf whistled, and several clapped with glee.

  "I'm sorry, but this lot aren't used to seeing women in such an establishment. They might be a little rowdy," said Hotwell.

  They looked over and saw Chas shaking her ass at them, smiling as she played to the crowd, but the other two looked less than impressed.

  "You might like to keep the women close," he added.

  Corwin smiled. "They can take care of themselves. It’s them you should be concerned for," he said, pointing to the paratroopers.

  Hotwell and Corwin pushed their way through to the bar, and the Captain put in an order without a word to the others.

  "Evening, fella," said one of the American airborne soldiers to Corwin.